


Cloud Meadow BNHA!

by Kazooli



Series: Black Christmas [5]
Category: Cloud Meadow (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Anatomically Correct P3n1s, Belly Bulges, Breeding, Double Penetration, F/M, Hypnosis, Macro/Micro, Male Lactation, Oviposition, Teratophilia, cumflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazooli/pseuds/Kazooli
Summary: Work comes first, and so too do your monsters.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Reader, Amajiki Tamaki/Reader, Chisaki Kai | Overhaul/Reader, Dabi (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Kirishima Eijirou/Reader, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Reader, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor/Reader, Todoroki Natsuo/Reader
Series: Black Christmas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035546
Comments: 10
Kudos: 311





	Cloud Meadow BNHA!

**I N T . F A R M H O U S E - T A M A K I T H E C A T - D A W N**

_Work comes first, and so too do your monsters._

Housetrained, but too skittish for adoption. In a way, you’re grateful that he’s never taken kindly to strangers. You’ve had him the longest, after all. Your day begins and ends with purring in your ears and the gentle nudging of a wet nose against your cheek. A day without Tamaki is a day wasted.

“Miss...please.”

And a day without a horny kitty isn’t much of a day at all.

The barbs of his cock are just as soft and pudgy as the rest of him. Your tongue slips between each and every one, teasing them with small flicks and tight-lipped sucks that have him bucking into your mouth and kneading the top of your head. What he lacks in size, he more than makes for in mewling spirit. He yowls like a tomcat, chitters like a kitten. For all his timidity, Tamaki rarely shies away from making himself heard when there’s a warm, human mouth nursing on his cocklette. 

“I’ll cum! I’ll cum! _Please, miss!_ ”

 _Oh._ The noncommittal push of your head is far sweeter than any other pleasure. His dull claws contract at your hairline, pulling you close enough to feel the fuzz of his balls tickling your chin and his ribbed prick pressing hard against the back of your throat. Tamaki’s body arches, writhes, and curls, and he’s purring long before the last spurt of cum has been milked from him. 

“Good boy, Tamaki. Very good boy.”

**E X T . F A R M H O U S E - K E I G O T H E H A R P Y - M O R N I N G**

By the time you’ve made breakfast for yourself, the birds are already chirping. **The** bird is already chirping. Keigo makes himself known with several impatient raps to your door. You’re late, he tells you. You’re late, and he’s miserable, and it’s all your fault. Of course, he doesn’t really say that. Keigo merely eyes you up from the window, ruffling his feathers and poising himself to nibble at your hair as soon as you step out onto the porch. He’s had a rough few weeks. Rutting is never easy, especially when there isn’t a suitable mate that can give him the chicks he so desperately wants to raise.

You toe into your rainboots and slip out of the house with only a mental checklist and a bucket in hand. 

“How’s that rut treating you, baby?” you coo, running your fingers down golden daddy plumage and scritching beneath his chin. His eyelids close one at a time, blinking slowly, contently, like he’s anticipating a sound sleep. 

All bets are off as soon as he notices the bucket. 

Keigo cranes his neck to see what shiny trinkets lie at the bottom of it. He nips at your fingers, attempts to pull it from your hand, and when that doesn’t work, he settles for throwing his weight around, pushing you to the floorboards and settling on your chest before wrestling the bucket out of your hand. 

“Someone’s impatient today.” You can already feel a familiar weight pressing against your chest at his latest display of dominance. “And in more ways than one.” 

When his head emerges from the bucket with nothing to show for it, the displeasure is clear in his slitted eyes.

Cheekily, you smile. “Sorry, nothin’ in there for you today.”

It’s something to be expected—the aggression. Keigo bites at your hair and nips at your face as his cock slips out its feathered sheathe already dripping, red, and hard. He can’t help what comes naturally. His instincts tell him to dominate as fast and as hard as he can. He’s an apex predator with a taste for human pussy, and when that urge rears its ugly head, the most you can do for him is let him take what he wants and hope for the best. 

“S-Slow down, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

With your overalls bunched up by your boots, you tote your ass up and keep your face down as Keigo struggles for purchase. Far more prehensile than a human cock, his cock hardly penetrates your cunt for long. A single thrust has it slipping down the cleft of your body, leaving sticky trails of pre to drip from your clit and frustrating him to no end. He ruts against you, holding you down by the arms and thrashing again and again until _finally_ the tapered head of his cock catches your entrance and slips inside just in time for one last pained hump that sends him over the edge and has him peeping for chicks he knows he’ll never get from fertilizing your womb. 

Bad handlers make for bad behaviors, and Keigo has a long way to go before he can even be considered safe for adoption. 

**I N T . G A R D E N - T O M U R A T H E M A N D R A K E - M O R N I N G**

The greenhouse is uncharacteristically still. He isn’t sleeping. He rarely ever sleeps, especially not in the presence of a human. Pesticides and pollution would make anyone weary of bipedals roaming about one’s home. 

The greenhouse is still, but it is very much alive and well.

The shears in your hand have gone unused long enough. You poise yourself in front of a bed of weeds and overgrown vines, lift them carefully and snip away at the excess until the tulips you planted are visible once more. 

You’re being watched. Not that you mind, but working with an audience always proves to be a little stressful when sad audience has a temper. You can hear the grumble in the creaking stretch of vines and the shaking of dry leaves. You grip a vine, and the vine grips back, lacing around your fingers and wrist like a snake before slithering back into the soil and away from the sharp snip of your shears. 

Upon moving onto the next bed—the one marked with CAUTION signs, and a number to call in case of any ‘accidents’—you’re pleased to find that the foul-smelling, acid-spewing bulb that sprouted just a day prior has disappeared since your last talk with its host. You tend to the largest roots, packing down any disturbed soil and supplying them enough water to last in the summers heat. Surely, it’s nurturing enough for him to think, “Okay, you’ve done your job. Leave me alone now.” 

But a day without teasing Tomura...

You take to the back of the greenhouse, where a mass of plant life seems to rise and fall with breath, where vines spread across the walls, ceiling, and floor and threaten to spread further if left to their own devices. His body and all its extensions are a blackened green, sickly in color yet pleasing to the eyes in contrast to the flowers that only recently started to bloom on him. In the middle of it all, white mossy locks obfuscate red eyes that’d pierce you if looks could kill. Indeed, Tomura is a very, very beautiful boy. 

“Look at theeeese,” you say, running the backs of your fingers along pink and red petals. “So handsome with your little flowers. Such a pretty boy.”

He’s like stiff putty in your hands. He may growl and threaten you with snapping vines, but you aren’t oblivious to the sweet taste in the air or the sap dripping from stray pistils.

“And such a good boy too. Got rid of that weed for me without having to ask twice. Such a good, pretty boy, Tomura.” 

You’ll work him up teasing him like this. A few more “handsome’s” and “good boy’s” have small tendrils working their way into your overalls, tugging gently at the thin band of your panties and wrapping around the fattened base of your tits. 

“You’re being so fresh—touching me like this.”

If he could, he’d be grinning.

“Naughty boy.”

If he could, he’d be blushing.

There’s a lot of time to be wasted in the garden. Tomura can make several hours feel like a few minutes with a single puff of that pollen against your nose. It’s well worth the resulting itch in the back of your throat. Your body throbs with need, receptive and wet, and so eager to feel him exploring your insides with leaking tendrils and blooming bulbs of the like. He handles you with care. Vines may wrap around your neck and tie back your legs, but they’ll never squeeze hard enough to leave you with anything more than a few scratches. He simply has a taste for feminine figures, loves touching them and seeing how far they can bend and how much they can take before they can no longer support the weight of their head on their own. 

So much sap. So many phallic twines pistoning and undulating in and out of everything willing to squeeze him and keep him warm. It’s hard to keep track of them, even harder to keep track of the time that’s already escaped you. You have much to do today, but Tomura is intent on keeping you pinned to his body for as long as you’ll let him, perhaps even longer if he’s feeling particularly defiant.

For a monster too dangerous to be adopted, he is nothing if not loving. 

**I N T . S T A B L E S - E N J I T H E C E N T A U R - M I D D A Y**

Enji snorts as soon as you enter his stable. He can smell it on you—all the day’s endeavors and the musk of every male that’s touched you in the past twenty-four hours. He can be a bit of a grumpy old man, increasingly jealous and ornery when his brood mare isn’t tending to his every need or when she’s off giving other males the time of day. Postulating himself as a prized stallion, Enji is under the impression that he’s entitled to special treatment, more of your time and more of your _assistance_. 

He towers over you with folded arms, watching with feigned disinterest as you set the bucket face down beside him and take your rightful spot on top of it. 

Looking up at him, he makes it clear that he isn’t too pleased having been kept waiting. “Sorry for being late. You aren’t mad at me are you, Mr. Enji?”

His hooves kick at the ground as you run a hand along his flank. You wouldn’t want to be caught under them. Mr. Enji is a very big, very strong man—a single kick would put you one foot in the grave and the other a mile away from the rest of your body. 

With steady hands, you take a wet sponge to the barrel of his bottom chest and run it down each leg, minding the injury that had him sent to your farm in the first place. He seems to relax as you do. Your hands exchange their rigidity for a calming softness that has him resting his head against the wooden beams of his stable. 

“Enji,” you whisper, granting him the courtesy of privacy knowing that his son is just outside the barn doors. “Do you need me to...relieve you?”

He scoffs as if it’s a ridiculous question, but his sheathe can only hold back his hardening cock for so long.

“Do what you must.” 

‘What you must’ is a test of your body’s structural integrity. You bear your weight on his front legs, bent over and gripping the backs of them as his cock slides out from its sheathe. He doesn’t like to be touched by human hands, says it isn’t right, says there’s only one way to relieve himself and that’s through mating. 

Fair enough.

You wait on baited breaths as the flat head of his cock thumps against your belly from between your legs The reach of it is dizzying—several inches over your navel. Pink, black, and white, and an arm thick. Sweat drips from your temples as a cant of his hips has his cock bumping against your entrance with no sign of being able to fit on its own.

“M-May I?” You ask, hands already poised behind you. Enji does what he does best and grumbles his dissatisfaction before giving you room to reach back. Your hand trails down his length, over the firm head, down his long, powerful shaft, and flush against his plump balls that are practically bloated with seed. Offering them a quick squeeze, grants you a quick shove that has you nearly toppling over. Enji is not to be teased.

“Try to be CAREful,” you squeal, feeling him thrust the air as if he were already inside of you. You grab his cock just below the tip and press your fist hard against your delicate opening. His hind legs take a step forward, and you’re offered a small breath before his cock plunges comfortably into your stomach.

“Oh! Oh god! Oh my— _hah_ — _God!_ ”

Enji makes quick work of your stubborn little body. The tip of his horse cock alone presses demandingly against the entrance of your womb. He rears back, sliding a measly four inches out of your pussy before thrusting back inside and sending you forward. You brace yourself against his front legs as the bulge in your belly grows and shrinks in tandem with his thrusts. The head of his cock flares as he gains the speed his kind is known for, swelling outwards and locking him against your womb despite his attempts to continue thrusting. 

“Enji! P-Please, don’t move. I can’t—I can’t!”

Such a slutty face for a slutty little girl. It’s hard to imagine anyone could smile with that much cock pressing hard against their insides, but you manage to pull a lopsided grin as soon as you feel the rush of several liters of seed being pumped directly into your womb. Your body is jostled with every throb of his engorged cock, lifted from the ground and ragdolled until his orgasm is nothing more than a trickle of seed.

You enter the stables with a bucket.

You leave with a sideways limp. 

**E X T . C O R R A L - N A T S U O T H E H O L S T A U R - D A Y**

“You don’t have to, really. I can do it myself.”

“Natsuo.”

“I mean, it would be nice, really nice actually. But, ah, it isn’t necessary. Nope, probably be more of a mess than anything.”

“Natsuo.”

“And you know how my dad can get. If he finds out I let you use your—HANDS!”

The story of Ferdinand. Natsuo is as mild-mannered as they come. If it weren’t for the swishing tail and set of horns, you’d be surprised to learn his lineage.

He’s hot from chest to hip, leaking the sweetest milk from his pebbled nipples and writhing over the touch of a human. He’s right, his father would certainly have a field day if he found out you were using your hands and mouth on his son, but your pussy couldn’t possibly take another pounding from a hot-blooded Todoroki. 

“Miss...”

“Shhh just let it all out. It’ll be our. Little. Secret,” you whisper. Collecting all the saliva in your mouth, you lean down to suck on the fattened crown of his cock. You can’t help but notice the way he bucks against your face, or the hand that wraps around yours to coax more strokes out of you. It’s almost as if he prefers this more—having you service him on your hands and knees, feeling your glucking throat meet the sheathe at the bottom of his belly. How very taboo.

“Can you please...? Can you... _eugh_.” Natsuo’s request dies out in a shiver he wrenches your mouth away from his groin. The desperation is clear in his cracking voice. “I just need your mouth...somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” You bring a finger to your lip in mock thought, and Natsuo whines at the mere thought of having to say it out loud. “Oh, I see. Somewhere _else_.”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple, flicking fresh milk across his chest and into your mouth with every diligent suck. He’s an ecstasy. Natsuo ruts against your stomach, pushing his pecs against your face and keeping your suckling mouth pinned to his chest with a firm press from his bicep. 

“Tashes gud. Vevy gud, mishtaw Nastuo!” 

Cum spurts across your belly without any assistance from your free hand as you milk his chest near-dry. All he can offer you is a shudder and a groan as thanks. 

Just another secret to add to the long list of things his father will never hear about.

**I N T . M A R S H - S H O U T A T H E S L I M E - D U S K**

_Congealed tendrils of slime. A sticky paste between your legs. Two arms hooked underneath your own._

The marsh just beyond the corral can be a treacherous place. At least, it used to be. It wasn’t uncommon to slip and find yourself stuck in a thick expanse of mud or weighed down by the build up of algae in your boots. It wouldn’t be so much of a problem if not for the rain that’d have the water level rising above your head. Going alone would’ve been asking for trouble. 

Fortunately, you’re no longer alone. 

It’s hard to put a name to the feeling of being penetrated so lazily with cocks made of slime. They’re stiff, but not hard. Chilly, but not cold. Shouta takes the time to fill every hole, and yet you hardly feel overwhelmed. 

“Tired,” he mutters. 

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Despite his perpetual state of exhaustion, he fucks with the vigor of a predator, taking advantage of your every move, wriggling his tentacles into the small nooks and crannies of your body. 

Always the gentleman, Shouta asks before slipping another writhing cock into your ass.

“Ah, go for it.” 

You clench hard feeling a strange tickle roiling around in your stomach. It’s a insatiable itch, one that has you bouncing back to meet his thrusts in hopes of ramming his jellied cocks against the damned spot. It feels far too dry compared to the rest of your dripping body. Too damn dry and too damn itchy! 

“What _is_ that? It’s miserabbbbble!” you whine.

“Prep.” It isn’t much of an answer, but you can hardly protest while your body is working overtime to work his cocks deeper into your ass.

There’s a sudden gush of slime and a rolling stretch that starts at the base of each tentacle and ends at the tip. The sensation of fullness has your eyelids fluttering—the itch no longer present with a clutch of viscous eggs now resting in that godforsaken spot. 

“Keep them safe,” he says, settling you down on the other side of the bank.

Tomorrow you’ll return with nothing to show for his efforts, and Shouta will once again have his work cut out for him. 

**I N T . C A V E - K A I T H E L A M I A - E V E N I N G**

How could you forget about him? Nearly halfway through his cave, and you didn’t even think to stop and look for him. Regrettable. A big mistake. He won’t be forgetting this. 

Kai never takes lightly to being snubbed, nor does he care for the layer of muck covering your body when it’s his turn to be tended to. You’re filthy, dripping with seed and reeking of pheromones that aren’t your own. He’d spit if the venom wouldn’t burn a hole through your skin. 

You’re very lucky. So very lucky he’s willing to clean the day’s grime from your body. He doesn’t enjoy it. There’s nothing satisfying about coiling around your nude little body and wiping your pudgy human face clean.

You giggle at the swipe of his rattled tail against your cheek and hug it to your chest. “Aw thank you. You’re such a good Mr. Snakey.”

That’s enough talking for now. Forever, really. 

Your eyes glaze over, mouth falling limp at the first sight of his penetrating stare. Your mind is certainly one of the easier one’s to control, so empty and unimposing. Kai can already feel himself getting worked up over the sight of you hanging limply in the dense ringlets of his tail. It’d be distressing if it weren’t so _illicit_. His twin cocks thrash at the opportunity he’s presented himself. A helpless human already wet between the legs and horny for whatever comes her way. 

“Dirty little human...” he muses, undulating his tail ‘til his cocks are flush against two welcoming holes. “How many times have you been bred _today_?”

Not wanting a real answer, Kai thrusts inside of you just as your lips begin to part. One could get the wrong impression that he genuinely cares about your wellbeing by the way he kisses your still lips and dotingly humps your body. 

Even under his control, you mewl and squeal your praise when his thrashing cocks add to the lurid mixture already settling in your womb.

Another stop in the rotation. Another encounter to occupy his lonely thoughts. 

**I N T . D E N - E I J I R O U T H E D R A G O N - N I G H T**

You’re dripping. 

Your hair is slicked permanently back, and your clothes smell like a wet campfire. A puff of steam fans in front of your face, and you’re left struggling to breathe as his own panting breaths put pressure on your lungs.

Eijirou licks you from head to toe once more before nudging you with the side of his snout. _He’s so very happy to see you again._

“Geez bud, when’d you get so big?” 

His claws dig into the ground with anticipation. Get him too excited and he may just pounce on you, best to keep the praise and pets at a minimum. Still, it’s hard to hold back your trembling excitement when he rolls onto his back and stares at you expectantly with those slitted puppy-dog eyes.

When you consider how you found him—malnourished and weak, hardly able to support what little weight he had on him—steady growth is a great sign. But his new height presents a logistical nightmare. Normally mounting him wouldn’t take nearly as much effort. You struggle to hoist yourself onto his stomach, needing an extra push from his head to even come close to straddling him. He’s already ready for you, his cock so hot and hard it’s practically steaming whenever the moisture from your breath meets his shaft. 

It’s a sudden and disappointing revelation: “Ah, it’ll never be able to fit.”

A rumble works its way up Eijirou’s chest. He thrusts the air in front of you, striking your chin with the head of his cock and straining for more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, just like I always do.”

Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his cock and hug it close to your body. It’s hot, almost painfully so, but Eijirou relishes in the contact, thrusting into the squeezing pocket you’ve made just for him and swishing his tail in satisfaction. It’s a little strange in practice, slightly embarrassing given how hard you have to cling to his cock so as not to be thrown off. You press a kiss to one of many ridges of his cock as it throbs with the anticipation of release. Grinding against it, you can feel your own release on the tip of your tongue, melting in your mouth, settling in the back of your throat, only escaping with hopeless pleas to be drenched with his cum. 

You’re dripping.

**I N T . ??? - D A B I T H E D E M O N - M I D N I G H T**

"Well, if it isn’t the breeding bitch herself. I thought I smelled—” Dabi takes one good look at you and grimaces. “What the hell happened to you?”

Tired. You’re tired. After a long day of giving, pushing your body to its limits, and being filled to the brim with cum, you’re tired. You slump down against the alter, resting your weary head against pentagramed stone and wiping dried semen from your brow. No one said this job would be an easy one, just a thankless one.

“So, you ready to throw in the towel?” the imp asks, tilting your jaw with the point of his nail to assess to damage. “Or are you still committed to this little _business venture_ of yours?”

His hard on is undoubtedly raging at the thought of a broken contract, but a life of servitude is a small price to pay for another chance at life itself. 

The marsh just beyond the corral can indeed be a treacherous place. 

You force a smile. “Nothin’ I can’t handle. You won’t be gettin’ this soul that easily.”

Dabi grins. “Same time tomorrow then.” 

_Work comes first, and so too do your monsters._

**Author's Note:**

> So much cock such little time ty for reading!


End file.
